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sinsiriuslyemo · 3 months

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Title: Perfect

Pairing: Jim Gordon/Reader

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: You should've known that Valentine's Day with Jim would be perfect, even when you hated Valentine's Day.

Notes: Happy Valentine's Day!

Warning: fluff and cheese incoming.

You had never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. Even when you were in a relationship, it had always seemed to you like a day that only benefitted corporate America. Not that you hated the excuse to be romantic with Jim, but the point was that you never really needed an excuse. The two of you were romantic with each other all the time. Part of you wanted to insist that you skip any silly Valentine’s Day celebration or grand gestures and just spend it the way you would spend any other Wednesday, but the look on his face when he proudly proclaimed over breakfast a few days before that he had thought of the perfect Valentine's Day activity kept your cynicism at bay. He seemed so excited. Who were you to yuck his yum?

“So, listen, what I was thinking was that we could recreate our first date,” he said as the two of you got into his car to head home on Monday.

You furrowed your brows. “Uh… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I thought it’d be cute and romantic.”

Your brows shot up over your eyes, but apparently he hadn’t noticed.

“We can go to that little Italian place, and then go for a walk in the theatre district,” he said, and your expression returned to one of bewilderment. “Maybe even stop at that same little street cart off of Monroe and get some —”

“That was our second date,” you said.

He narrowed his eyes, looking over at you as you came to a stop at a red light. “Wait a minute, are you saying you count what was supposed to be our first date as our actual first date?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because we got called into a murder scene before we even got to the restaurant and then spent practically the entire night going over casefiles of similar MOs and waiting on DNA evidence,” he replied.

“Yeah, so? It was still our first date,” you insisted.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I say it stopped being our first date the moment we were interrupted and had to go to work.”

“Are you kidding? We got to spend the whole night together,” you argued with a smile.

“The whole night looking over other murders instead of eating at a restaurant. Yeah, some date. I didn’t even kiss you at the end of the night.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have kissed at the end of the first date anyway,” you teased.

“Oh really? Cause I seem to remember your hands wandering a bit on our do-over date,” he teased.

“I told you, you had dust on your pants,” you answered, trying to contain a smile.

“Oh, that’s right,” he conceded. “Anyway, that night was our first date. Not the one where we didn’t even get to go to dinner.”

“We did have dinner, it was just shitty takeout at the precinct. We still talked, we still got to know each other more. And we danced to the copy machine!”

Jim smiled at the memory.

“Why would you wanna erase that? That was romantic and cute in it’s own special way. I mean, okay, I agree, the murder was a bit too much blood for a first date —”

“You think?”

“Okay, but I don’t focus on the moments that weren’t ideal first date scenarios. I think about the conversation we had while we were waiting on the DNA to come back, and the shitty take out while we were going through old case files looking for similar MOs, and dancing to the copy machine! Seriously, who can say that they’ve danced to a copy machine?”

“Probably not that many people,” he mumbled, sighing after a moment, but apparently refusing to concede. “I still don’t count that as our first date. At best it was maybe a dress rehearsal.”

“A dress rehearsal?”

“Yeah, dress rehearsal,” he answered, the corner of his lips curling after a moment. “You wore that little black dress with the feather prints on it that buttoned down the front.”

You smiled to yourself as you remembered the look on his face when he first saw you in that dress. “I like that dress.”

“Me too,” he replied, pulling up to the curb in front of your building. “Hugged you in all the right places and showed just enough to make me want to undo all those buttons. It drove me crazy.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“I mean, I knew you liked it, I didn’t realize you liked it that much,” you said, getting out of the car and waiting for him to reach you on the sidewalk before you walked into the building together.

“I still think about you in it sometimes,” he murmured in your ear while the two of you made your way to the elevator.

Your cheeks warmed and you bit down on your bottom lip, slinking your arm around his. “You looked really good that night too. You should roll up your sleeves to your elbows more often.”

Smirking to himself, he followed you into the elevator and pushed the button for your floor, turning to you when the doors closed. “So you concede that was a dress rehearsal and not actually our first date?”

“No way,” you answered, smiling when he groaned.

“You’re telling me you had more fun that night than on our real first date?��

“Second date.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “You had more fun that night than on our next date?”

“Well played,” you replied. “It’s not about whether I had more fun, it’s that it was so memorable that I don’t want to let it go just because there was a little blood and a couple dead bodies.”

“A little blood?”

“Okay, a lot of blood. That night is still special to me,” you answered. “Even though it wasn’t what we planned, even though it wasn’t ideal, it’s ours.”

He sighed softly, but it wasn’t until the elevator stopped on your floor and you were standing at your front door, waiting for him to unlock it that he turned to you, opening the door to let you in and said, “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

“Yes,” you whispered, grinning as he locked the door behind you both.

“That doesn't exactly help me though,” he said, tossing his keys on the foyer table. “I can’t recreate that night.”

“You don’t have to, we can recreate our second date like you wanted —”

“Yeah, but the whole romance of it was that I was recreating our first date,” he answered.

“Oh Jim, I don't care about that. I don’t care what we do as long as we’re together. I don’t need anything fancy, I just need you.” You took off your gun and badge and set them on the counter.

“I know, but we didn’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together last year,” he said.

“That’s cause Ramirez got the flu,” you replied.

“Well, still, it’s gonna be our first Valentine’s Day that we spend together. I just want it to be special.”

Smiling at him, you wrapped your arms around his trunk, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. “It’ll be special no matter what we do because I’ll be spending the night with you.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he replied, seeming to let it go.

Jim had arranged the schedule so that he would be off while you only worked one shift on Valentine’s Day, which was nice enough for you. You didn’t need anything extravagant to make the day special and you certainly didn’t need the entire day. Still, Jim would not be deterred; from the moment you got home at five thirty, you were greeted with white and red rose petals that led from the front door down the hallway. Instinctively, you smiled at the gesture, but when you looked up to find Jim, he was nowhere to be seen.

The cop in you kicked in for a moment after you called out to him, but got no answer. That was unusual — even when Jim was busy doing something, he would always answer when you called out to him after getting home, and you always did the same. There was a faint sound coming from the bedroom and you instinctively pulled out your gun, following the rose petals down the hall.

“Jim?”

Still no answer, but the noise was a bit clearer as you neared the bedroom. Music. And it was a song you vaguely recognized, but still couldn’t quite make out. Using your foot, you pushed the bedroom door open and scanned the room. Everything looked normal except for the music, which you now realized was coming from the adjoining bathroom. The lights were dimmed, but you didn’t see or hear any sign of Jim, and you started to think the worst. Raising your gun, you slowly made your way toward the bathroom, using your foot again to push the door open.

“Whoa!” Jim exclaimed, instinctively putting his hands up. “Hi. Can you put the gun down please, sweetheart?”

With a sigh, you lowered your weapon. “You didn’t answer, you scared the tits off me. I started to think something terrible happened.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to surprise you,” he said, coming up to you. It was at that point that you realized he was wearing a bathrobe. Looking around, you saw tea candles all around the bathroom, a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne chilling inside it and a bowl of strawberries. The tub was filled with a steaming bubble bath, and the music that played made you grin to yourself as you began to recognize it.

“Wow,” you said.

“Yeah, wow. Let’s put the gun down,” he suggested, gently taking the gun from your hand and setting it on the vanity. “And let’s get your clothes off.”

“That song…” you said as he unbuttoned your flannel shirt.

Jim smirked at you. “It’s the one that was on the radio when we were coming back from the docks the day we met.”

“I can’t believe you even remember that,” you said.

He pushed your shirt over your shoulders, kissing one while he lowered your bra strap off the other. “Of course I remember that,” he whispered against your skin, one hand going to unhook your bra to pull that off as well. “I remember everything that has anything at all to do with you.”

You shivered as he lay kisses along the side of your neck, his hands busying themselves with unbuckling your belt before he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants. He pushed them down, waiting for you to toe out of your shoes before he helped you step out of your khakis and looked you over.

“Christ, you are so beautiful,” he purred, pulling you against him.

You hummed at the feel of his soft robe against your nipples, your hands moving to the sash on the front, untying it and pushing it open to expose his bare chest.

“This is really beautiful,” you said as you pushed the robe off of him.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. “I may have ordered dinner from that shitty take out place.”

“The one from our first date?” you teased, taking your underwear off the rest of the way before doing the same with your socks.

“Don’t start that again,” he replied, gesturing to the tub with his head. “Go on, hop in.”

The two of you sat on opposite ends of the tub, your legs intertwined while he reached for a champagne flute, handing it to you before he picked up the bottle from the ice bucket.

“How was first shift?” he asked playfully.

“Not bad. Actually pretty quiet, criminals must’ve thought to take the day off or something.”

“There’s a first,” he mumbled, pouring some of the bubbly drink into your glass before he poured himself one. Putting the bottle back into the ice bucket, he toasted with you. “Well, we have the rest of the night all to ourselves.”

“What’s on the docket?” you asked, lifting yourself a bit to pick out a strawberry for you to eat.

“I thought we could relax in the bath for a bit, and then have dinner while we watch a movie. You choose whichever film you want.”

“You’re gonna hate me,” you said with a wince, taking a bite of your strawberry.

“I could never hate you,” he replied.

“I kinda wanna binge-watch Dance Moms.”

He nodded and lowered his eyes. “Okay, I hate you a little bit.”

You laughed with the back of your hand over your mouth. “We can watching something else if —”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he assured you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I said you could choose. I meant it.” He picked up a strawberry for himself and took a bite.

“All of this is amazing, Jim. Thank you so much.”

He smiled back at you, seemingly satisfied with himself. The hand not holding his flute grazed along your calf, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he swallowed what was in his mouth. “Look, I know you’re not one for Valentine's Day celebrations —”

“I never said that,” you answered.

“I heard you talking to Stephens about it last week,” he said. “And you’re right about one thing, we don’t need a special day to be romantic. We never have. But if there’s an occasion that gives me an excuse to pull out all the big guns, I’m gonna take it every single time. Because you deserve it.”

You smiled at him, taking a sip from your flute. “That’s fair. And you really do romance so well, it’d be a shame for those skills to go to waste.”

He winked at you. “My thoughts exactly. And I’m even willing to overlook that you’re a Valentine’s Scrooge —”

You gasped playfully, using your heels to slide yourself closer to him. “I am not a Scrooge.”

“You snarled at the Valentine’s decorations in the lobby of the precinct just yesterday,” he reminded you with a smirk. “And rolled your eyes at the guy selling flowers off of seventh the day before. Face it, honey, you hate Valentine’s Day.”

There was a brief moment of silence as you let his words linger in the air, relieved that he didn’t seem to be taking your aversion to the holiday personally.

“Okay, so I do, a little bit “ you conceded. “You know it’s just an excuse for corporate America to cash in. If you love someone you shouldn’t need capitalism to tell you when to be romantic.”

“That’s true, and I’ll admit that chocolates are always way overpriced around Valentine’s Day.”

“Yes! They know. They know people will buy them, so they mark up the prices and then sit in their gaudy mansions and laugh their asses off because not only have they just made bank off of the hopeless romantics and the saps, but also people praise them for it. And don’t even get me started on the damn teddy bears.”

“Okay, no. Please do not talk about the teddy bears,” he begged, picking up a strawberry and stuffing it between your lips. “I want us to enjoy the night together, and as much as I love watching you get all riled up, I do not want to listen to you rant all night.”

You bit into the strawberry and turned to slide your bottom between his legs, your back to his chest. “Just so you know, if I ever find myself enjoying Valentine’s Day, it’s because I’m spending it with you. Everybody else can eat a dick.”

He snorted into his champagne flute as he took a drink, trying not to spit it out. Swallowing, he pressed his nose against your hair.

“All this though,” you continued, looking around the room with a lazy smile. “All this is amazing.”

“You like it?” he mumbled into your ear.

“Mhm,” you hummed, snuggling back against him. “It’s making me think maybe Dance Moms isn’t exactly the right tone.”

“I didn’t wanna say anything, but yeah, Dance Moms — however fascinating — isn’t exactly the most romantic,” he answered. He set down his flute and gently began to massage your shoulders.

“You’re right,” you said, relaxing against his touch. “How about Breathless? You said you’ve never seen it.”

“Yeah, I could go for that.” He dropped a kiss on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jim,” you answered, turning your head to kiss his lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but you’re an amazing boyfriend. I’ve never been so happy.”

You felt his mustache twitch and just knew he was smiling.

“That makes two of us,” he whispered into your ear.

The two of you stayed in the bathtub a while longer, leisurely washing each other and taking small breaks to share a series of kisses every now and again. Eventually the water began to cool past the point of being comfortable, and Jim helped you out of the tub and into the shower to warm back up and rinse the bubbles off you. All the while, Jim doted on you with praises, kisses and sensual touches. Afterwards, he wrapped you in a fluffy robe that matched the one he’d had on when you came in.

He brought the bucket that held the bottle of champagne and both your flutes while you took your gun into the bedroom, setting it on the dresser. The two of you got dressed — you in a oversized t shirt and him in a pair of soft flannel pants — and went into the living room. Jim stopped off in the kitchen to reheat the takeout and bring it over to the couch before you played the movie.

After you finished eating, Jim excused himself to the bathroom while you picked up all the garbage from dinner, and poured you both some more champagne. When he came back out, he snuggled up with you on the couch, spooning you from behind and finished the movie with you.

All in all it had been one of the best Valentine’s Days you’d ever had, your feelings on the actual holiday notwithstanding. Though you had no idea that there was one surprise left.

When you walked into the bedroom later that night, there were rose petals and hershey kisses scattered on the bed, a full box of your favorite chocolates leaning against your pillow. He must have set it all up when he’d gone to the bathroom earlier. And even though you had already known it all along, you realized just how lucky you were to be with Jim Gordon.

#jim gordon fanfic #jim gordon x reader #jim gordan #gary oldman #valentines day #fluff

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dailyanarchistposts · 12 days

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It’s pretty rough being an Israeli anarchist these days. On a good day you are dismissed as irresponsible and naive, ignorant of history and blind to reality while your dedicated, life-risking activities are, at best, an easily-absorbed tantrum in the Nanny State. And that’s on a good day. The normal treatment is a bit less savory. You are violently despised, branded a fifth column for Iran and al-Qaida, and all the beatings, tear-gassings and shootings you and your comrades endure are gleefully cheered on, alongside the usual calls to put the anarchists up against the wall.

In his May 24 “Power & Politics” column “Anarchy has its place”, Elliot Jager is just the man to give you a bit of both. After a rhapsody of belittling rhetoric designed to brand anarchists as irrelevant, we are back with the usual vitriol and bad faith: well-rehearsed cheap shots, stock phrases and smug moralizing alongside harangues of abuse and dehumanization of the enemy. Hate, not reason, is behind the accusation that Israelis who take direct action against the Segregation Barrier effectively aid those who would murder Israeli civilians. This is manipulative nonsense.

Get real — as if every publicly dismantled roadblock or hole in the segregation barrier isn’t closely guarded and soon repaired by contractors. At most we’re costing the state some money and man-hours. The main thing that happens is that everybody gets to see our weekly demonstrations violently repressed. Symbolic actions are only the most visible part of a much wider struggle that includes more sustainable actions, from interfaith dialogue to the accompaniment of olive harvesting to joint ecological projects, as well as demonstrations, publishing and educational work. The point of all this is not only to dismantle barriers but to get the army out of Palestine, dismantling the entire regime of occupation with its apparatus of death, imprisonment and confiscation. We are not interested in better managing of the conflict — we want to end it by reconciliation among enemies.

AND THAT’S just for starters. Jager invokes Leviathan, Hobbes’s metaphor for the State. It is the sovereign to which everyone supposedly cedes his autonomy, so as to avoid a war of all against all and a precarious life that is “nasty, brutish and short.” This is what we are told about human nature. Now tell me one thing: If you don’t trust people to get along without rulers, how can you possibly trust them to rule other people? Leviathan is not as Jager imagines it. The cadaverous beast is an artificial social machine of domination, with living human beings as operating parts. We all fuel the matrix of hierarchical and coercive institutions, and we can destroy it by constructing a new society from the grassroots even as we confront injustice. Leviathan speaks from the mouths of those who apologize for having lost faith in their capacity to make their own history. Those who know they can do so reject its easy lies. People with this kind of analysis don’t inhabit cafes and art galleries. And so when Israeli activists get out of their comfort zones and put their bodies on the line for the future, suddenly they’re a threat.

THERE ARE remarkable parallels here to the civil resistance to the withdrawal from Gaza — a self-organized, grassroots campaign of disobedience and direct action if there ever was one, brutally repressed by the forces of the state in the name of majority rule. Many anarchists, by the way, opposed the disengagement — as they would any armed unilateralism toward citizens or non-citizens under military occupation. The truth is that Israeli anarchists are demonized because their actions are coherent and bold. The joint Palestinian-Israeli struggle transgresses the fundamental taboos put in place by Zionist militarism. Alongside the living example of nonviolence and cooperation between the two peoples, the struggle forces Israeli spectators to confront their dark collective traumas. Israelis who demonstrate hand-in-hand with Palestinians are threatening because they are afraid neither of Arabs nor of the Second Holocaust that they are supposedly destined to perpetrate. Notice how everything comes out when the anarchists are vilified: the fear of annihilation, the enemy as a calculated murderer, and victims’ guilt expatiated through the assertion of self-defense and just war as unexamined axioms. And this is threatening on a deeper level than any hole in the fence — but, then again, anarchists didn’t get their reputation as trouble-makers for nothing. Refuse communion at the edge of the Abyss. “Disimagine” this nightmare disguised as reality, where victims of victims victimize each other until one day we are all blown away to Kingdom Come.

We can still break out of the vicious cycle of drawing the justification for present atrocities from the living memory of the horrors of the past — if only we realize that in doing so we are playing into the hands of all those who mean to rule us. AS FOR ourselves, in manifesting our solidarity with Palestinians we have no intention of romanticizing their struggle, or of hiding our opposition to anyone who would rule the peoples of this land. Rather it is a question of starting to practice desertion, refusal, sabotage, attack against every violent authority, all coercive power, and every state.

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horizon-verizon · 9 months

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Alicent watches HER 10 YEARS-OLD GRANDSON GET BEHEADED and observes her daughter sinks into madness, but unlike Rhaenyra, she defied the freezed broken mother trope by being a steady and ACTIVE political presence throughout the Dance, even after ONLY Aegon II remained to her.

For all intents and purposes, she acted as a regent in her sons’s absence. She was the main political authority in King’s Landing prior to Aegon II’s return from Dragonstone. It was Alicent who negotiated the reclaiming of the Red Keep during the Moon of Madness. It was her who proclaimed a curfew, had the City Watch reformed and had the three pretender kings arrested. It was her who betrothed Aegon II to Cassandra Baratheon and accepted Corlys Velaryon’s fealty on Aegon’s behalf. It was her machinations, along with Larys Strong, that prevented Alyn Velaryon from attacking Aegon II on Dragonstone and succeeded in bringing him back to King’s Landing. Even after Aegon’s return, Alicent remained a power player in his court and a constant presence in his councils.

Post maybe in response to this one (this has become ongoing).

May I introduce you to this post I made way back about Alicent's politicking and plotting?

CORRECTION (from this ask): There is no strong evidence to suggest Alicent was taken out of the room before Blood and Cheese killed Jaehaerys. So she watched her grandchild die.

However, I'm not going to retract this entire post bc whether or not she watched this child die, her grief or rage for her own kids still is VERY evident and opposes the asker's claims about her, which I explain below. It doesn't change that most of Alicent's actions during and after the Dance were mostly closely tied to her emotions, particularly her grief and rage, and desire to prevent the deaths of loved ones when actually confronted with the likelihood of that. At the same time, she also still wanted Jaehaera (the very last trueborn green) to risk herself to kill Aegon III for the sheer need to destroy the last of Rhaenyra's line, so...my points from that post continue to stand.

Her watching Jaehaerys die doesn't suddenly prove she kept a cool head for critical moments when she needed to.

Always Remember: If we compare her to Alicent, Alicent is a heavy-duty blood purist who never looked out for other women, even seized power from another woman entirely for herself and her house's patriarchal prestige and power. No matter who Rhaenyra was before King's Landing or after, Rhaenyra was "vulnerable" to this due to her gender's inequitable access to higher positions of power in Westeros. Rhaenyra was never a tyrant before King's Landing and the greens' usurpation.

Alicent also lost her composure several times over her sons:

her negotiations with Rhaenyra over dividing the kingdom (Bastard bloodshed in war), which risked Rhaenyra's further enmity towards her...who insults the other person's dead children when they are trying to negotiate with them?! (On the "purely" pragmatic, practical side, this was dumb as hell, and I mention it in the link above)--Those kids that she, Alicent herself whose deaths Alocent is partly responsible for?! Again, when she said that, she mainly wanted to spite Rhaenyra, but it was a risk!

her wanting to mutilate Aegon (I'm going to repeat this fact several times, along with quotes later) which brings Corlys and Larys against her, and Aegon

her wanting to have Aegon's last trueborn heir, Jaehaera, to kill Aegon III for the sake of Alice's rage over her sons' deaths and losing the war, to spite Rhaenyra one last time.

("Rhaenyra Triumphant")

("The Hooded Hand")

"The murder of the last of her sons had turned Alicent’s heart into a stone. None of the regents wished to see her put to death, some from compassion, others for fear that such an execution might rekindle the flames of war. Yet she could not be allowed to take part in the life of the court as before."

("The Hooded Hand")

So, anon, you're just a liar or a very bad reader due to misogyny blinding you.

Since we are supposedly commenting on Alicent's leadership or political strategizing skills, I'll say that yes, Alicent has that particular strength over Rhaenyra. Her actions during the green council helped the greens get one over Rhaenyra, and she did do those things she listed. It's unfortunate that:

her Andal-Faith traditionalism, its subsequent misogyny, and her internalized and weaponized misogyny against a woman for her own ambition made her unpalatable for me, a prospective fan, from almost the start

that strength comes with the other side-of-the-coin: straight-up blindness to her immortality as well as double standard-ness to actions (kinda like you right now) that leads her to her own horrible end of half going mad with denial and regret...which unfortunately for you, I just find less impressive than a woman getting eaten by her enemies' dragon, sue me.

Also, I don't know, acting as if a woman is inherently better as a person than another woman for NOT breaking down about her kids' death screams a lack of empathy for women and mothers bc you think all women who happen to be in positions of power should pick themselves up by their bootstraps, push away their grief, and continue fighting the good fight. Also, it shows nearsightedness to how family and personal life and one's values can color "public" politics. The two can't really be separated in terms of influence and effect.

Not only did you neglect how Alicent still displays what you complain of (I describe and give a quote a little later here), there doesn't seem to be any room for you to consider how such a thing might color the person's later decisions, as Alicent herself wanted to mutilate Aegon III (she is the one who suggested it) to protect herself and her son from Rhaneyra's supporter. She also did not want to comply with Corlys' suggestions to parley with said rebels specifically because she hated and blamed Rhaenyra for her losses (before Aegon's death) and present danger....meanwhile, who usurped who and used misogyny to do it? ("The Short, Sad Reign of Aegon II"):

Once more, she brought about her own end as well, towards her end as well as broadly/in general. Because of that internalized misogyny. We can't pretend that thus was something that guided Alicent into making some critical mistakes and going after Rhaenyra at all.

Again, blinded by your own misogyny.

Take Jaehaerys for a non-Dance example and comparison. His relationship with his kids and his wife sour into two of those daughters' deaths (Daella & Viserra), and he's lucky that out of Daella he got Rhaenyra/the continuance of the house even after Rhaenyra is dead. How he decided:

to sideline and keep his daughters/niece/older sister out of the succession or have some sort of power derived from their own claims

refused to really treat them/pay attention to them

give them autonomy and let them learn politics as Aemon and Baelon probably did

He intentionally wanted to keep the succession male-centered. that was his political move, his suppression of his female family members for his own political winning. They are not distinct, he could not have done one without the other. And it comes to Princess Rhaenys getting passed over in the Council of 101, where he also decided that making the succession built for everyone to comment and decide on (letting the subject decide on the matter of succession more than a king....) was better than continuing to consolidate Targ power....after all, he did before to do the very same, he undoes it all with this....because he thinks power, to stay, needs men-centering....

Do you see what I mean by intelligent, cunning, strategic people still being able to be as stupid as fuck, that stupidity or lack of awareness made up of their perception of self and others, their own abilities, etc.? Alicent is still the one to risk her kids' lives in the endeavor to bring herself, them, and her maiden house prestige and more power.

She also uses Andal succession customs (there are no laws) to push herself forward, but in doing so, she usurped a throne from a woman who had way more followers and dragons...yeah, that was going to go well for her sons. (I already mention this in the link above)

She'd have to ignore the previous king's word (law-breaking, going against tradition, oh how smart and sticking to one's values she is, huh?). Which, yes, IS law, that's how even feudal monarchies work AND that is the whole point of a king/monarch's privilege/power in deciding who their successor is....as Jaehaerys passed over Daenerys for Aemon, Aenys passed Rhaena for Aegon. The value of a king's word is reflected in how only the king/monarch can make bastards, even not their own, legitimate. No one else has this right.

She and you are blinded by misogyny.

Now if you, anon decide you prefer Alicent bc she displayed political acumen, that's fine. We all can be fans or admire different people, and you don't even have to stan anyone while liking a few characters for qualities you admire. But let's not pretend that:

the themes of this story and Fire and Blood and ASoIaF are just about political acumen and how well you can play politics, you let GoT rot your brain otherwise -- remember, love vs duty is rather a more salient topic in ASoIaF

because you display political acumen, you are going to be a better sort of leader than another who displays less. We also need character...she still plunged the country into a war and she also didn't care about any smallfolk so her actions carried with them a careless aristocratic cruelty towards their own suffering. (a rumor that she laughed and mocked the rape and murder of children at Tumbleton...with her disregard for Rhaenyra's "bastard" sons and her willingness to mutilate Aegon III, yes I can very much believe this).

she was perfect or an inherently better person or acted better than Rhaenyra she uses that intelligence against herself in the end by how she, like Jaehaerys, died in painful regret and denial. Hating her the color she herself chose to symbolize her grand endeavor and ambitions/faction and yet also wanting her daughter to murder the boy of the woman she chose to usurp. Go back to section A.

Conclusion

It's funny how you speak about how Rhaenyra brought all that happened to her herself (which is half right and half wrong)...yet neglect or don't know that Alicent is more responsible for her own end and losses. Those final moments with her, Corlys, Larys, and Aegon.

Alicent, like Rhaenyra, is an aristocratic woman looking for power for herself. Unfortunately, she also has some kind of lack of self-awareness of her actions and cherry-picking values that taint her judgment. And she, like Rhaenyra, was made to use the harm or death of a child, resulting in the loss of a capable person on their team. There is a thematic element of "madness" and "evil queen" for both women that get subverted. Alicent dying aggrieved and lost in hatred, Rhaenyra through her paranoia.

But Rhaenyra? Alicent and the greens had pushed her into a place where she lost most things all for the sake of ambition. Who pushed Alicent? Other than patriarchy (which all women must oppose and resist to some degree and some did, including Rhaenyra herself), what did Alicent really have to complain about? Rhaenyra explicitly states that she'd keep her kids alive if Aegon surrendered before any fighting started and Lucerys died. What exactly did Rhaenyra do to her? Meanwhile, I could list several things of the reverse before the usurpation! And the pattern of those things stems from Alicent's belief that she should use her son's patriarchal privilege to become the highest-ranking woman as well as make the Faith/Oldtown even more influential and prestigious than it already was.

Check out this post of an ask that summarizes a little better my points.

#asoiaf asks to me #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #alicent's characterization #alicent hightower #character comparison #fire and blood characters #fire and blood writing #blood and cheese

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 2 years

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As the person who drew that little comic about fan interpretations of Eclipse... I wanna know. I am looking respectfully & waiting patiently. O . O

Hahahah. Sure.

This is he:

Drawn by @twinanimatronics

Me: (swoons~) Look at him~ So handsome~ uwu

The man, the myth, the legend, the Eclipse.

We do see him briefly in Twins but not very often other than flashbacks considering that in the Twins Timeline, Sun and Moon are separated into two separate bodies, and 'Eclipse' vanishes with them. Well, kinda but not fully:

(More on this and the nature of Blackhole Sun, and "Redacted" later)

I feel my Eclipse is different than many other interpretations of the character, just because my Sun/Moon concept is a bit different. Eclipse isn't even really a character or an AI itself if you want to get real technical about it.

First off, Sun and Moon can not communicate with each other inside their own heads. This is consistent throughout my fic, and it's the central driving point to why there is so much hostility from Sun toward Moon and they don't really 'get' each other for the longest time. Sun and Moon don't share memories either. Well, they kind of do. Their experiences and feelings with other people blend and bleed into each other and they neither can't precisely tell where they begin and the other ends when it comes to how they feel about something. Moon can hate something he's never seen before because Sun subconsciously hates it. Or Sun can be overjoyed at the prospect of something he's never done or people he's never met because Moon subconsciously likes the thing. They don't share 'muscle' memory and how graceful they are with their call cable is 100% dependent on practice. Moon has more practice with the cable flying around as a Security bot. Sun found the cable cumbersome and difficult to use outside of just getting to his room, so doesn't use it as often. The only thing that they can really trust is how they feel about each other. Because they only know how to feel about the voice in their head.

I really don't think this major theatrical struggle is just Sun's fear of Moon possibly hurting Gregory. (although that's a major part of it) Like I really think they can't communicate or share memories at all.

You could argue that it's the glitch that makes them unable to communicate, but due to the nature of my fic, and Moon being an INTENDED child capture machine (similar to how Circus Baby's whole point was to capture and detain children and her being a performing animatronic was just a cover) Moon and Sun not being able to communicate inside their own heads was entirely by design.

Handler in my fic designed Sun specifically not to share Moon's memories for a very specific reason.

Moon is going to be pied-pipering children away to get got by whatever form Afton takes.

If Sun and Moon are a two-for-one deal, and Sun CAN'T remember the murders, or what happened to the children under his watch, then he can deny involvement. (which makes it easier with a few features Moon has I introduce super early)

Eclipse was a design oversight that was never meant to be intended between them. Eclipse really isn't his own person, not in a traditional sense. Eclipse is just the name that Sun and Moon gave that form when they were active at the same time.

Eclipse only comes out in very specific instances. Instances where Sun and Moon deem it necessary that they are out at the same time. When the other gets overwhelmed immensely or the emotional/physical strain is way too much to handle on their own.

Moon, due to the nature of his creation, is far more inexperienced as an AI in my fic in the early days of their existence. (he's the broken parts of Sun that were basically lobotomized off that developed into their own AI) so Moon often panics and calls Sun for help.

(ch 4)

Lunar Eclipses happen far more frequently in my fic ironically, and as of the time I'm writing this, there has not been a solar Eclipse yet.

In the Eclipse state, the lines between Sun and Moon become entirely blurred.

They become one, but in this state, they can communicate with each other in their own heads. But it is almost like an entirely subconscious thing, as the memories of the one who was dormant during that time are a little unclear. But far clearer than how they would be normally, which is nonexistent:

(ch 5)

(keep in mind, Sun is talking aloud for his own sake here, Moon can't actually hear him and his words don't reach him while he lays dormant.)

Eclipse is the bridge and the only way that these two can communicate with each other inside their own heads, and to everyone else, because of this Eclipse is a real backward freakshow that you can't really pin down what they're thinking.

(ch14 from Twin Animatronics with too much time on their hands)

In Sun and Moon's own words, Eclipse has to agree on an action or words before they move or speak. But to others from an outside perspective, Eclipse just looks like this:

So Eclipse is hard to read, and can be super impulsive at sometimes, or just writhing around on the ground other times.

Eclipse is basically a mental health failsafe that the boys accidentally developed on their own and even they aren't entirely sure why it comes out. But in most instances, Eclipse comes out when they're extremely stressed and the other isn't pushing down on the other.

BaloonBoy World is something entirely else that is related to Eclipse, but I can't get into details about it yet.

Anyway... That's Eclipse 101 in Lofi.

#fnaf #fnaf sb #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddys security breach #Sun fnaf #Moon fnaf #Eclipse fnaf #danachan's rants

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bearmemesreviews · 2 months

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FotW: SDMI - The Secret of the Ghost Rig

Ghost Trucks! Welcome back to Freak of the Week, we continue with Mystery Incorporated and find ourselves with a trope that Scooby-Doo only did a few times before - one of which had the Mystery Machine itself be the self-driving ghoul of the week!

Best demonstrated in Maximum Overdrive, and by a lesser extent the Cars Franchise, we sure do love to think of trucks and other vehicles as "alive". Even outside our Christines and Speed-Buggeys, it's just fun to think of these big and highly destruction-prone things as having their own souls.

Backstory: After their tryst in Gatorsburg, the Mystery Gang finds themselves in the middle of the mayor's - Fred's dad - re-election campaign. His rival being a Mr. George Avocados. Mr. Avocados runs despite the fact that his father, a previous Mayor of Crystal Cove, was sentenced to prison for stealing a diamond during his turn - one that was never found.

Daphne's parents also take the time to try and matchmake with their daughter. Despite hooking her up with the heir of a ladder company, the rich boy hits it off better with Freddie than Daphne. This won't be the last time you'll have to worry about your boyfriend's budding bisexuality Daph, remember - if you can't beat them, join them.

Anyway, while all this is happening the gang must also deal with a Ghost Truck running rampant through the town and a string of door-knob robberies. The gang then decide to trap the entire truck after a little encouragement from Mr. E.

Design: The Ghost Truck is exactly what it says on the tin. It's a luminous Big Rig that's heavily weathered, every inch rusted over, with a transparent green algae of sorts draped over its entire body. It has additional spikes added to the front, alongside an entire spike pronged cage attached to its bumper. This 10-wheeler, when active, also has flaming wheels and headlights so bright that it even lights up the driver's seating area.

Off-topic, but why does google images refuse to show me any actual 10-wheelers if they aren't from Dora the Explorah.

For something as simple as "Ghost Truck", they went all out on making it a memorable, and very formidable being. This metal beast actively tries to run anyone in its way off the numerous cliffs near the cove. It is out of luck that more people haven't been killed by this guy. The only downside is that the Trucker's motives are so focused on, we never even get any lore regarding the truck itself.

One way I could fix this would be to have Senior Avocados dead rather in jail, not like this show is all against people getting Disney Villain Death'ed already. Have him try to escape the police in a truck he stole, ending the chase with him driving it off the cliffside to an unseen demise. This would tie all the plot points together in a way that'd make the "Ghost" part of the monster's name make sense.

Just because it's glowing doesn't mean it's dead guys!

Reveal: The gang survives enough attempted murders to find the truck's hideout, discovering an entire secret video game level cave filled to the brim with doorknobs. Specifically crystal doorknobs. They find a journal belonging to Avocados' father, where he reveals that he did in fact steal the diamond and hidden it before being caught by the pigs.

It's only after chasing the gang for finding it's cave that the truck is lured into Fred's shark tank trap. And to avoid giving the meddling kids a manslaughter charge, the driver of the truck hops out on his own volition.

It's Rung Ladderton, heir to the Ladderton Ladder Company and Fred's Daphne's suitor. Turns out that rich people don't like the fact that usable products are less likely to be replaced, and thus, they don't get enough constant revenue to satisfy their lifestyles. Yeah, he says he's broke, but let's be real - that just means he needs to get his fancy ascots from a company that only has 200 active sweatshops rather that 20,000.

Rung Ladderton admits that he was stealing all the doorknobs because Avocados Senior replaced one of them with the diamond. However, there was no hint towards which doorknob it was - so Rung Ladderton had to steal all of them, using the Ghost Rig to smuggle them out of town.

We are only a few years away before a new Scooby-Doo show has a villain be a crypto dude trying to rob people while wearing a gorilla suit.

4/5 - Very simple concept with great execution.

If Rung Ladderton was well-endowed, do you think he'd be called Hu-

#bmoreviews #bmoreviewsmysteryinc #mystery incorporated #scooby doo mystery incorporated #the ghost truck

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thevulpinehero1 · 8 months

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Gwatch: Mobile Suit Gundam 0079 Ep 2

Time for Episode 2. After a high-octane first episode, EP 2 has some minor administrative stuff to take care of in regards to laying out the situation the protagonists will be in. As before, be wary of spoilers.

Pictured: the Captain of the White Base asking a sensible question about war machines that would later be almost exclusively piloted by people too young to legally drink

Let's talk about Zakus. People love Zakus. They're cute little cyclops guys, and they get totally manhandled basically from start to finish whenever they appear which gives them underdog points, but it's worth noting that at this point the story goes out of its way to establish that even a Zaku, the punching bag mook suit of future Gundam lore, is a huge threat.

Char reports losing two Zakus, and his superior cannot believe his ears. These are the shaky beginnings of mobile suits, and the Earth Federation doesn't really have any horses in that race yet. They're still trying to fight off Zakus with tanks and planes, and the Zakus are as far above conventional military vehicles as the Gundam is above the Zakus.

Two Zakus murdered entire crowds of people. They're stated to have wiped out almost every single military officer and engineer that was supposed to staff the White Base. They're directly responsible for the ongoing crisis that the protagonists experience throughout the series; those two random guys Amuro yolo'd in a suit he could barely get to stand up were more effective in stalling the Federation war effort than almost anything that follows.

And they sort've need to be that effective, because the audience needs to be sold on the premise of mechs as a weapon of war, subject to the logistics and concerns of the battlefield. Previous shows in the genre have been more super robot types, so they got a free pass, but the Zaku needs to show why you wouldn't just use a tank or more conventional vehicle, and that threat level has been established early on (even if it's mostly brushed over; as mecha fans will admit, the question "but why does it have to be a giant robot?" doesn't have any good practical answers outside of it being cooler. Even if you ignore things like the square-cube law and the difficulty in scaling up a humanoid body, even if you ignore how complex mecha would be in comparison to a tank loaded with the same armaments, the simple fact is that humanoid is not a particularly effective shape to be on a modern battlefield.)

Sayla Mass shortly after slapping a random civilian who has understandably elected to get himself away from an active battlefield instead of roaming around looking for survivors, then telling him he should be left behind to die instead of being evacuated. Her sweater has become part of her skin; she's a Na'vi from the neck down.

Sayla's an interesting character who basically never appears in other Gundam shows, despite the fact that she'd be pretty relevant to a couple of them and the series being quite happy to include previous major characters in later instalments. I forget why this is the case -- I think it might have had something to do with her VA? -- but either way, she's one of the few who doesn't return in any meaningful role, which means we can only enjoy her here.

Part of what makes her fun to watch is that, when she's not just randomly slapping potentially traumatised survivors of a military attack, she's generally pretty effective. Within minutes of us being told her name, she's pulled a gun on Char, who's snuck into the colony on foot to do a bit of spying (which is honestly something of a habit for him as the Gundam series goes on). He almost immediately disarms her because he's Char and also extremely effective when he wants to be, but hey.

Char Aznable playing Touhou in his off time. Seriously, this guy dodges lasers like it's going out of style.

As Char makes his escape with the valuable data, we're treated to what will become a fairly common sight: Amuro getting out the beam rifle and just kind of yeeting all of his ammunition at nothing in particular. This time, he has excuses; he's aiming at human targets in a mobile suit, and he's never really killed a human in cold blood before. He also pulls off a couple of neat shots where he hits two missiles mid-flight. But I remember the amount of times 'oh no I fired wildly with my rifle and didn't hit anything, and now I have no ammo!' became a complicating factor becoming something of a joke to me.

We're then treated to the first ever battle between Amuro Ray and Char Aznable, which ends up as more or less a stalemate. Make no mistake: Amuro gets completely manhandled by Char, who's an accomplished ace pilot with five battleship kills to his name. But the Gundam is so OP for this point in the series that, even though Amuro can't really touch him, Char can't really capitalise on the opportunity since the Gundam can tank his weapons head on. In the end, their skirmish is a mutual loss. Amuro loses to a pilot. Char loses to a suit.

But Char walks away with a head full of the Federation's military secrets and a much better understanding of the Gundam's threat level, and he has supplies and reinforcements on the way...

#mobile suit gundam #gundam '79 #anime blogging #spoilers #screenshots #char begins the gundam tradition of being way cooler out of the suit than in one #Bright's there but he's not captain yet #still chooses to be kind of an ass about things though #seriously the Gundam completely hard-carries for a while #Gwatch

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proofwhisky · 5 months

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CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, being a multimillionaire ( soon to be billionaire ) is indeed an absolutely perfect cover for anyone whose private life is steeped in illegality. Ample time in the spotlight all but ensures that the Shelby family can mold the public's opinion into whatever is necessary to placate them, to advance whichever plan or scheme Tommy have have put in motion at any given time without drawing any undue attention to the true perpetrators. By carefully choosing which parts of their lives to show to the media, the Shelbys have solidified themselves as pillars of the community ; generous, humble, altruistic.

It is not an easy image to maintain, but it is a simple one. The formula requires careful maintenance & diligent effort ; the mindfulness of media presence at all times, constant self-awareness, reasonably acceptable acting skills &, of course, consistent upkeep of important social relationships with organizations that would otherwise prove to be obstacles — not the least of which is their relationship with the police.

The Shelby family are avid supporters of the police & their various endeavors. In the less morally-upright districts & cities, Tommy pays the police to look the other way on certain things, to avoid certain streets or alleyways on their Monday night patrols, & the like. For the rest of the precincts, Shelby Company International is more than happy to donate large sums to the stations whenever they need it ; ensuring the officers get their new Dodge Chargers or their coffee machines or their new set of office computers.

More than once, Thomas has been called upon by the police in whichever city he so happens to be visiting at the time to offer his help in whatever way he can, be it monetarily or otherwise. Business connections are useful in almost every context ; even if Tommy doesn't know something himself, he knows someone who knows someone who does, & this has proven to be invaluable to his own career & to many others' as well. He has even tried his hand at detective work in the past & proven himself to be rather useful & entirely trustworthy. He has the world right where he wants it.

So, then, it is not a complete shock when the FBI reaches out to ask for his assistance with a high priority case involving a murderer. They give very little information except that he will be assisting one of their best agents in the investigation, & that said agent would meet him at a specified rendezvous point on a specific date at a specific time.

Of course he accepts the offer. It would likely look rather strange if he didn't, owing to the fact that the volunteer hours on his schedule are completely unassigned for this year, & most ( if not all ) charitable institutions & the like tend to fight for his time or money whenever there's a chance to do so. Not prioritizing the Federal Bureau of Investigation may not be outright suspicious, but it would draw enough attention to make the activities of the Peaky Blinders & his involvement in them that much more difficult to hide.

It doesn't take him long to find the rendezvous point. Tommy arrives early by about 30 minutes in order to familiarize himself with the layout of the nearby streets & the interior some of the nearby buildings... just in case. One can never be too careful, when one is the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in the world & has just agreed to work alongside one of the best FBI agents in their field.

Tommy is idly smoking with his free hand in the pocket of his overcoat, cutting a striking figure ( as always ) in his three-piece suit & pocket watch. He stands facing the street, assuming the agent will arrive in a car, though he could be wrong about this.

God knows he's been wrong before.

plotted starter for @cstarling !!

#cstarling #:3 #lmk if i need to change anything!

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getmemymicroscope · 11 months

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This Aftab/Paresh Rawal (and Preeti Jhangiani) collaboration is much, much different from their previous one (the much more fun Awara Paagal Deewana).

Bollywood sci-fi, very limited as a genre to begin with, really struggles with being very adept at the whole "science" part of it (or even non-sci-fi movies, like Aftab's 'romantic drama' Red), and this one is no different.

Honestly, it would probably have worked better as a Frankenstein-type story, where he's just creating another adult-type human, than what it tries to be - a story about a man who clones a fully grown adult from an adult. Not exactly how cloning works.

But it gets even worse: his clone is not only blood-hungry (what, did he clone him using fluid from the Lazarus Pit?), but he's a fully functional adult right from the start (again, Frankenstein did it better, using the idea of creating a body and giving it life) - the clone's first acts are 1) murder (for clothes) and 2) walk into a bar and sing/dance (before attacking the co-dancer for no real reason). In fact, within just a few days of "life," this clone also: perfectly mimics the creator's science knowledge, murders another person (three, actually), impregnates a girl who mistakes him for the human version, and somehow gets into cahoots with the bad guy. Also: knows how to use a gun, knows the intricacies of things like fingerprints, sets up their own cloning lab (but, somehow, is just creating replicas while withholding brain function, creating what is essentially humanoid machines), and even deceives the cops by putting on a fake beard.

Our main character, after being rejected in his bid to get funding/permission to continue his cloning research (after his first attempt ended in the death of his friend/colleague), gets illegal funding from someone else (semi-related: this abrupt switch in moods of the person he's talking to about this, from "oh, it's alright" to "no, you must continue this research" makes it clear, well before the reveal, who the baddie is) and sets up the entire lab on his own. Like, he builds the equipment from scratch - apart from his keyboard, which he is curiously shown unwrapping and hugging tightly - down to the very cloning pods. The movie tries to build suspense by showing us random things like a hidden camera and a hidden room with someone viewing all the activities thru monitors, but again - that beginning give-away is so obvious that the twist is very untwisty. (There's also a very random plot point where a random person appears to be offering to fund the research, which is immediately spoiled by the reveal that it is our cop, and then is never further explored as to why the "don't fund him" cop is suddenly willing to fund him, just minutes after saying he shouldn't be funded.)

Rahul Dev somehow survives the 'barely hanging on to a car door overlooking a cliff/steep drop,' saved by the very timely "cut away to another scene," and is able to come and get beat up a bit by our clone. Speaking of which, our clone is still human - so how the fuck did he suddenly turn into a human version of 'Bollywood John Abraham' for the final fight scene? He definitely did not have enough time to work out and develop literal iron abs. In fact, it feels like all he did was sing/dance (two songs!, for a clone!?), murder people, impregnate a girl (so yes, apparently the reproductive organs of a clone do work), and go shopping for sunglasses and full-black outfits.

Preeti Jhangiani's voice sounds dubbed. Also, she has horrible luck with on-screen romances: even the movies that end well for her (Mohabbatein, Awara Paagal Deewana) start with heartbreak (killed in action husband; bad relationship). And this one: well, this one is somehow just as weird.

Maybe it's a result of just recently having read Frankenstein, but I could not stop thinking about how this would've been better as that type of story. Of course, there would've needed to be more about why our 'clone' is blood-hungry from the get-go - and why the clone is so determined to ruin our protagonist's life from the start - but it would've been a better story, I think, than a fully functional clone immediately setting out to ruin this man's life without cause (Frankenstein's monster, on the other hand, had felt wronged enough that the thought process, while flawed, could still be reasonably followed from start to conclusion). And how, in just a few days, the clone was able to team up with a human accomplice and know how to do everything, is still a mystery.

Not to mention: why does our clone hate our protagonist so much anyways? There is no explanation given, which makes everything that happens very, very ... unnecessary. There's no Frankenstein-level abandonment (hell, the clone is gone before our protag can even wake up from the procedure), and there's no Frankenstein-level broken promise/destruction of another being (not to mention, our clone has already slept with a girl pretty early into it's life, so it's not like he needs another clone for companionship).

The twist in the end, as I've said, is super predictable, and the Deepika-in-Pathaan/Deepika-in-Race 2/Bipasha-in-Race (admittedly, all of these came after this movie) level "change of heart following betrayal" is also very predictable (after all, this is Bollywood).

Human cloning is questionable, but cloning blood-thirsty, fully-grown adults who want to ruin your life for no particular reason is definitely not ideal.

#movies #gmmm does bollywood #movieblr #gmmm does movies

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miscelunaaa · 2 years

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spin cycle 15 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: drabble series, slow burn, idiots to lovers, fluff, lil bit of angst, eventual smut

summary: This random guy has started doing laundry at your favorite laundromat each week (at the same time as you, no less!) and to be honest, it’s going to be a problem. You’re just not sure how yet.

rating: 18+ for eventual smut

word count: less than 500

warnings: Pre-event/holiday jitters. Academic Hell Week jitters. Jokes about Roomie’s sex life. A joke about Black Friday shopping if you squint. Honestly some of my favorite jokes in the entire series so far.

notes: Hello! I’m back! Thank you for your patience! We are homing in on the end. The next several drabbles are all going to be taking place on the same day, so keep that in mind for future postings. Note also that I think I may be able to have this wrapped up in about 25 parts so!! That’s exciting! Let’s see if it happens!

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

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Regardless of if the university is off for Thanksgiving, you’ve been mired in prep for hell week. Final exams are easy. The several papers you have due before exam week are not. You may have been dragged away earlier in the week for a grocery run, sure, but the rest of prep was left to Roomie and her machine-like efficiency. You’re just there for silent emotional support, typing away at the kitchen table as she salts the chicken, preps and chops vegetables, and putters around, cleaning and tidying when she isn’t at work.

When Thursday finally comes, you wake up early to get coffee started and then do your handful of assigned tasks. You double check Roomie’s food prep list for her, as she’s asked. You scrub the toilet and make sure that the bathroom counters are in order. Finally, you dust everything, and by the time you’re finished, the coffee is done brewing. You check the time, and decide to go wake her up before she gets cranky about not waking up early enough.

The morning passes calmly enough. Roomie makes the pie in silence, humming idly to herself as she chops apples and rolls crust out. Your only job at this point is to “be available” which basically means that you keep filling her coffee mug until it’s time to move to wine.

Noon comes, and her stress level moves still higher as Namjoon’s arrival time draws near. You’re in the bathroom when you decide to try to more actively moderate her stress level.

“Do you know anything about his roommate?”

“No. He’s shy, but that’s all Joon’s really told me.”

“Probably don’t do much talking, right?” You tease as she stands in the bathroom, putting her mascara on.

“It’s not like that,” she pouts. “We talk. About stuff. Sometimes.”

“Being called baby girl while he jizzes on your stomach isn’t really talking.”

“Oh my god. If you’re like this when he’s here, I am going to crazy murder you.”

“Look, it’s not my fault I was subjected to this. I tried to block the noise, but the two of you are obscene,” you smirk. Frankly, you were glad one of you was getting laid. There’s only so much tension vibrators can eliminate.

She throws you a look. “After he had to dip Thursday, he wanted to make it up to me.”

“Yeah, but like four times?”

“I doubt he’d want to apologize for art though I’m sorry you had to hear it. I guess I know what to get you for Christmas though.”

“Sound proofing in your room?”

“Sound proofing in my room, yes—wait, it’d be way easier to just get you better headphones. Maybe there’s some wild sale on industrial hearing protection somewhere.”

“Yeah, maybe that’d block out all the jackhammering.”

“I’m glad you’re getting this all out of your system now,” she rolls her eyes.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.

“Fuck, already?”

“I’ll get them,” you say.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 4.11.2022

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x female reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk fic #bts fanfic #bts fic #eventual smut #domestic nonsense #possumswrite #miscelunaaa #idk what I'm doing in my tags anymore but here we are

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sbi-au-ideas · 2 years

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Tommy’s been cornered by SBI, the most well known villains in L’manburg. Tommy is also being cornered by the Dream Team, the top three ranking hero’s. And to top it off, Tommy even managed to get BeeDuo, renowned vigilantes, to join the chase.

So why, in this seemingly inescapable scenario, is Tommy grinning? A huge grin, one that screams chaos and mischief.

His pursuers don’t know what to make of it. A man gone mad?

No. Tommy would never.

Tommy backs up into a vending machine. His fun little group of People Who Want Him Dead- consisting of the 8 most powerful people in the world, who consistently attempt to murder each other on a daily basis- are ecstatic. In fact, they look proud. A temporary alliance formed to take TommyInnit down.

In spite of the alliance, tensions are high. Who will be the first to draw their weapon?

In the end, it’s Tommy himself. Slowly revealing a poker chip hidden in his pocket, he lets the group take a good look.

And then he puts the poker chip in the vending machine, and a hole opens up in the ground, taking him away. It closes so fast it clips a few of the hairs on his head.

As soon as he touches ground, Tommy rushes over to a ready microphone to make his announcement.

“Ayup dickheads!” The camera watching them shows multiple people take out weapons. “Who’s up for a bloodbath?”

He sees beeduo grab hands, intertwining their fingers. “Just kidding, of course, I’m too good of a host for that. You see, I brought you all here for a reason.”

He huffs. “You keep almost killing each other. Which is fuckin annoying for me, for reasons I will not dis-close” he articulates.

“THEN WHY ARE WE HERE?!” Tommy actually winces. He sort of forgot Sirens power was Being Fucking Loud.

“Greeeaaatt question. I can’t tell you why, but I can tell you how to get out. You see, if you numbnuts were paying any attention, you would’ve noticed that I used a poker chip to unlock the exit. Find the one that’s hidden and use it. Ta-da!! You’re free.”

Of course they don’t know that the poker chip isn’t in that room. It’s in a hidden room, in a hidden room. And there are a lot of hidden rooms. They will also have to sort through clues and red herrings. Teamwork is kinda essential if they want to find the chip.

The group takes a moment, with the Blade whispering in Sirens ear. The siren then loudly proclaims, “WHY WOULDNT WE JUST USE OUR POWERS?!”

“Another great question my good man. Although I hate men. You know, it’s kind of offensive that this group has no women. Tsk tsk, points off for mahogany, boooo.”

“ITS MISOGYNY ASSHOLE, AND ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

“Oh right. What was the question?”

“WHY THE FUCK WOULDNT WE JUST USE OUR POWERS TO BUST OUT?!!!”

“Jeez don’t sound so mad. And that’s cuz I’m disabling your powers.” He pauses. “Forever.”

He presses the button that does exactly that, creating an invisible field around the building that blocks powers or hybrids from using their abilities. It doesn’t actually “disable their powers forever” but they don’t need to know that.

The hybrids are made clear as soon as the field is activated. Philza, Ender, and Blade all stumble to the ground for stability. You see, when your ability is partially used to hold up your hybrid parts (i.e. giant ass wings or stupidly tall people) and then you suddenly don’t have that support… well, let’s just say they won’t be getting off the floor for awhile.

Anyone with a mental ability also get a grand reveal. Blade gets a double whammy, clutching his head along with Buzzkill, Nightmare, and 404.

“Wow! 6 of the powerful 8, down for the count! God speed to Siren and Blaze amirite? They’ve gotta carry this group to the finish line!”

Siren clearly tries to scream something, but alas, it doesn’t reach Tommy. “Welp, communications are out boys, looks like you’re on your own! Remember, find the poker chip, put it in the vending machine, and you’re home free!”

Tommy pauses. “Oh, and one last thing.”

He grins.

“I’ve been recording this entire time. If you haven’t escaped by the end of a week, I’ll release this video to the public. Better get along nicely or you’ll all be broadcast!”

#Tommyinnit centric #sbi fic idea #sleepy bois inc #sleepy boys inc #Dream team #beeduo #villain!tommyinnit #evil arc #escape room au #superhero au #supervillain au #superpower au #mini fic

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the-descolada · 3 years

Text

Penny and Winter as Symbolic Human Machines

So honestly, I’m really impressed by how well done the ending of RWBY Volume 8 was with regard to character arcs being fulfilled, especially for Penny and Winter. I’ve seen a lot of takes, some that I somewhat agree with, and some that I just don’t, that Penny’s death was “bad writing,” and I think that, subjectivity of what constitutes bad writing aside, this is ignoring a lot of aspects of V7/V8 that made for a very compelling narrative, and feels heavily based in just people wanting Penny to not have died.

And I get this! Penny is one of my favorite characters and I’m very sad that she died; however, I really actually loved how fitting her death was for her story and the broader story of RWBY as a whole, so I wanted to do a write-up of my whole rant on this so that people could read it and see my thought process for why this only made me love Penny’s writing more. I’m not necessarily going to ascribe value to the writing itself in this analysis, as that is highly subjective, but I am biased so that’ll shine through some.

V7 through V8 had a lot of moments that frankly I hadn’t picked up on right up until the end that worked to build a dynamic interplay between Penny and Winter’s characters. Specifically, Penny's role is of a literal robot becoming less of a machine in the thematic sense and more of a person throughout, contrasting with Winter, who, while she is helping Penny realize herself as more of a person and less of a tool, is going through the opposite experience herself. This is essentially textual - it’s explicitly said by Winter herself in less words during the Maiden power transfer scene in V8E14.

When we as the audience reconnect with Winter at the start of V7, she is firmly entrenched as Ironwood’s confidante and second-in-command, serving as a face of the Atlas military as it squeezes Mantle. It’s safe to say that not many Mantle citizens like her very much, but she is insulated from this and continues to follow orders without regard for the welfare of the people. Ironwood at this point is already extremely authoritarian, even though he hasn’t graduated to full on dictatorship and declared martial law yet, and his will is also imposed on her through bringing her into the fold with the chief purpose of grooming (god this word feels grossly fitting given their dynamic) her to become the next Winter Maiden.

Winter, despite holding a a significant level of power and authority due to her military rank, has very little agency in this decision. She insists that her choice to take up the duty as Ironwood ordered is something she’s grown into and chosen, but it’s alarmingly clear that this is not the case; nearly every action she takes in V7 is still fully in the purview of Atlas (read: Ironwood)’s goals. I would go so far as to suggest that Ironwood giving her this position within the military after she escapes her father’s influence is intentionally conditioning her to view him as the sole way out of an abusive situation, and to disguise the fact that this new situation is just as abusive as the first below the surface.

Penny’s role in V7 is completely in opposition to this; while she is still theoretically under the control of the Atlas military, she is presented as the Protector of Mantle and seems to be beloved by the people. Our immediate image of her in Atlas is one of emotion and caring; she is overjoyed to see her friends from Beacon again, and this continues throughout the volume as she talks about what it means to be a person with them, Ruby and Winter especially. When things start going wrong and she is accused of killing people through the doctored footage from the rally, she is horrified at the prospect of being seen as a monster and continues to make every decision with the aim of protecting everyone around her, even at the expense of what her “duty” to Atlas might be. It’s clear that she is growing into her own agency, rather than being beholden to what Ironwood wants for her, and this helps prove to herself that she is her own person, not simply a tool of the military, not a machine.

The climactic scene of V7 takes these two character arcs running in strained parallel and drives a wedge between them, even as they battle a common enemy side by side. Winter’s devotion to Atlas (read: Ironwood) results in self-destructive tendencies, uncaring for her personal survival if it would further a goal that she ultimately and ironically does not truly believe in. Penny, however, begins to entirely shake this duty, risking even the Maiden power going to Cinder if it means saving Winter from dying. To her, personal feelings (ding ding ding!) and personal friendships mean more than duty to a state, or even (as we see later) her own well-being. Self destructive tendencies aside, this loyalty to people she earnestly cares about, who earnestly care about her, is loaded with symbolism that separates her from the metaphor of machine.

The result of the V7 finale reinforces the track the two of them are on; Winter, having been molded into a machine of the military, fails in her duty, while Penny, who has begun to recognize herself more and more as a person, succeeds at keeping the power from Cinder. She still has a massive amount of self-doubt and deep-seated fear that she doesn’t count as a person, but the Maiden power, being the perfect thematic symbol of “maidenhood”, goes to her, proving her to be a “real girl” and reinforcing the ongoing narrative. Winter, battling her own mixed feelings over being chosen for the power, never questions this; it’s clear that she, too, recognizes that Penny “was always the real Maiden, while [she] was the machine.” This also reinforces Penny’s narrative being heavily trans-coded, but I think that’s pretty obvious and doesn’t need to be reiterated. The two of them part sides here, one remaining with the Atlas military and one actively rebelling against it.

As Ironwood starts going off the deep end at the end of V7 and throughout V8 and starts sacrificing everyone around him to fuel his own narrow and tyrannical view of how to save Atlas, Winter simply...falls in line. She is continually forced to follow harsher and harsher orders, and any choices she makes as part of that, with only two exceptions, still are entirely in service to Ironwood. She has become, in essence, a machine locked into a set path, a path she, conflicted as she may be, follows all the way up to a choice she cannot abide - mass murder. Even orders that would result in her sister’s closest friends’ deaths she follows unquestioningly - it’s unclear whether she would have actually gone through with it, since the option is taken off the table by forces outside her control, but she certainly says as much in her conversation with Marrow. Only the prospect of annihilating the entire city of Mantle finally snaps her off the track Ironwood has set her on, making her recognize that all of this has never been for Atlas at all, but for Ironwood’s own ego. Fittingly, finally seeing Ironwood as her enemy and not a savior, she is tasked with taking him down herself.

Contrasting this, Penny’s role in V8 is entirely one of rebellion. The entire volume is her building her agency more and more, making decisions based on what she thinks is right and what she values. She rarely listens to any one person telling her what to do; even her father, who she loves dearly, isn’t able to make her do something when her sense of justice is on the line. Ironwood no longer has his hold on her for the most part; any attempt at manipulating her into doing something against her own morals is met with defiance, supported by her friends’ love for her. She has to be outright hacked to be forced into doing his bidding, and she fights this all the way down, her own inherent personhood pushing back against this attempt to dehumanize her. In this sense, even her becoming organic symbolizes this; she and the people she cares about defy this dehumanization of her, finding a way to free her from the last remaining vestiges of Atlesian influence and further reclaiming her own agency.

And what does she do with that agency when she is faced with oblivion? She simultaneously affirms it by making her final choice in a desperate situation, defying Cinder’s attempt to rip her power away, and also gifts it in the form of the Maiden power to the woman who she is watching attempting to also shake the shackles of Atlas, symbolically showing Winter her own inherent humanity. This decision, though dire, is in recognition of what is most important to her: her friends. Even believing half of them are dead, she gives up her life to ensure the rest survive. In the final moment she has with Winter, she reassures her that she won’t be really gone: the memory of her choice and who she is as a person will live on through Winter’s continued choices, through her agency.

In the end, neither of them were machines; just two hurt people fighting back against a brutal world that sought to strip their agency away. The tragedy in this conclusion, that that brutal world took one of their lives away, is fought just as defiantly. Penny knows that gifting the power in her soul to Winter means that her death won’t be meaningless, that her agency will last beyond her mortality and might result in the world finally being freed from the threat of destruction. It’s because of hope, not despair, that she makes her final choice.

#rwby spoilers #rwby8 spoilers #my writing #CRITICAL ANALYSIS TIME #i've been meaning to write up my rant on this for months #rwby #winter schnee #penny polendina

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jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art.

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons.

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow.

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure.

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it.

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing.

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart.

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.”

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks.

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion.

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?”

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh.

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs.

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides?

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication.

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you.

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry.

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck.

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?”

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━”

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits.

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust.

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair.

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs.

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway.

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid.

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine.

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum.

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad.

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

CALYPSO 🐚 ☕️

Part 1/3

Part 2/3:

“You call this shit an espresso machine?”

“I wouldn’t, but Fowler does. The department’s on a tight budget.”

“Hmmpff.”

Gavin watched Nines tinker with the cheap coffee maker in the break room. The whole thing was so absurd it felt like an out of body experience. He hadn’t had a partner in years and was now suddenly stuck with a military-grade android who bitterly resented every second spent by his side. It was also the first time he’d met someone as temperamental, as foul-mouthed and as coffee-loving as him.

Nines smacked the machine. It produced a pitiful whine and a stream of muddy brown liquid. Gavin cleared his throat.

“We should head to the scene now. Two victims in a warehouse. One human, one android. Battered beyond recognition. I’d go by myself but I need you to scan their identities for me.”

Nines turned around with disgust and something that looked a lot like fear written across his features.

“That sounds awful. Why would I want to come see such a thing?”

“It’s… your job…?”

“No. I’m not a detective. I’m a café owner. Markus and Connor might have forced me to sign a contract with the DPD but they can’t force me to do things I don’t want to.”

“And what am I supposed to do with an uncooperative partner?”

“That is not my problem.”

Gavin was stumped. He wasn’t used to people talking back to him, especially not civilians… not that Nines was really one any more.

“Come on, man. I don’t wanna tell on you. Let’s just make this work. Getting you in trouble is only gonna push you and all your fellow tincans into more hot water. Then you’d have lost your little café for nothing.”

Strangely, he found himself appealing to reason and logic. Nines’ aggressive demeanour was so similar to his own that Gavin had been forced to switch alignment entirely. His colleagues were pleasantly surprised by the change… though now there was a new rabid dog in the station they had to avoid angering.

“Fine. But tell me where exactly to scan. I don’t wanna be looking at those poor bastards any longer than I have to.

And don’t expect me to lick any blood like Connor the great. That’s fucking disgusting.”

“Of course.”

“Oh god. Oh RA9. Oh my…”

Nines took a shaky sip of his blue latte and dropped the cup back onto its saucer. Ralph hovered anxiously above him.

“How on earth do you look at things like that everyday? You barely batted an eye. And they call us androids inhuman.”

“Fifteen years on the job will dull your senses.”

“When did you stop getting queasy?”

Gavin lifted his own cup to his lips, not answering until he finally got a taste of the specialty coffee Nines kept raving about. He sipped and sighed in satisfaction. Calypso was everything it was talked up by the press to be.

“Right after a triple homicide by this dude I went to school with. He grew up exactly the same way I did. He had a nice family, nice job. There was nothing wrong with him. He could have been me, I could have been him. But how did the universe decide who’d be the cop and who’d be the killer? No phcking clue. No rhyme or reason for the way things turned out. And that realisation chilled me to the phcking bone, dude. There’s things scarier than blood and guts and that’s the workings of our own minds.”

Nines considered that for a moment and shuddered. Ralph hastily walked away, muttering to himself.

“Ralph does not like these talks. Murders and killings and bloody, bloody things. It reminds Ralph of the old days.”

Gavin watched him retreat behind the store counter with a raised eyebrow.

“Where on earth did you find that specimen?”

“In a haunted house.”

Gavin blinked uncertainly, not sure if he was being serious. Nines barked a laugh.

“Both of us were living rough after the Revolution. He’d been squatting in different buildings since he deviated and I was one of the new units Connor brought onto the streets from Cyberlife Tower. Didn’t have any clothes on. Didn’t have anywhere to go. I just ducked into the first abandoned building I saw. Needless to say I got the scare of my life, just as the poster outside promised.”

Nines’ eyes flicked over fondly to Ralph. The WR600 was now dealing rather enthusiastically with a customer. Gavin followed Nines’ gaze, sipping the heavenly coffee while his perception of the world went through another sea change.

“I’m proud of you, son. You didn’t want to join us at first but you went above and beyond for this mission.”

Captain Fowler pinned a medal of honour to the front of Nines’ dress uniform as the audience clapped. Nines inclined his head but remained expressionless. He glanced sideways and Gavin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, scarcely noticing the matching medal that joined the other ribbons and distinguished service awards on his chest.

Connor and Markus were waiting for them as they got off the stage. Nines shoved past both of them, ignoring Markus’ outstretched hand and the camera flashes from the media.

Irony of ironies, Gavin felt the need to save face. He stopped to shake hands and pose for pictures with the leader of Jericho and new Mayor of Detroit.

“He’s served well. He’s done his part. When can he go back to his little café?”

Markus smiled wistfully.

“Securing Nines’ public service was not just a bargaining chip in passing the Android Equality bill, Detective. It was a key instrument.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t just need to guarantee public safety from advanced androids, we need to recuperate the development costs. Cyberlife received countless government grants for RK R&D activities. I need to show tax payers that their money didn’t go down the drain.”

“What the hell kind of freedom is this?”

Markus dipped his head and Connor swiftly motioned for a journalist to join them.

“Turn the car around! Turn the fuck around!”

“Okay okay! Hang on!”

Gavin was used to Nines’ temper but he was now seeing it accompanied by anxiety for the first time. His hands were splayed out across the dashboard and his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. The LED on his temple sparked red in between its rapid cycles of yellow.

Weaving expertly through the traffic, Gavin pulled up outside Calypso Café. Nines leapt out of the police car before it fully stopped.

Gavin saw the source of trouble instantly. Two burly men tossing chairs and kicking tables. A third was berating terrified patrons and a fourth jeered at Ralph, plucking at his apron and smacking his damaged cheek. Gavin knew that anti-android sentiment still simmered beneath the surface of their society, but it had been a while since he’d seen it rear its ugly head… and so violently at that.

Nines barged into his beloved café and bodily flung the men out. They flew through the air and hit the pavement as if they weighed nothing. Gavin watched with muted horror, realising why exactly anyone would want the government to keep an eye on the RK900.

There was a sickening crunch as Nines broke the nose of the man who’d been bullying Ralph. But it didn’t end there. He kicked him down the entrance steps and leapt onto the man’s torso, pummelling his brutish face into the concrete.

Gavin could barely hear himself yelling for Nines to stop above the cacophony of screams from the vicinity. Seconds flew by and spatters of blood turned into veritable rivulets running down the pavement.

Not daring to intervene physically, Gavin pulled out his service revolver.

“Nines, get off him! Nines, it’s not worth it! If you kill him, everything ends! Nines! Stop! I’ll shoot if you don’t let go! Don’t make me do this, man! Please!”

He counted down and cursed when Nines showed no indication of having heard him. He fired a warning shot. Then two more. And then he pointed his weapon directly at Nines.

One bullet to the android’s midsection.

A burst of blue.

A staticky cry of surprise.

And Nines dropped to the side.

The other aggressors scrambled to scrape their unconscious ringleader off the ground and hurried away. Gavin made no effort to stop them. He flipped Nines onto his back and looked into the angry blue eyes.

“Wipe all the security cameras on the street.”

“Already did.”

Ralph helped him carry Nines into the vandalised café. Gavin ripped open the stained shirt and felt up the chassis for the embedded bullet. He took the toolbox from Ralph and began to work, guided by a lifesaving instinct that somehow applied to androids too.

“I should have been there.”

“What?”

“Ralph. I should have been there with you. I’d have never let those bastards into the store. I’d have never let them put their hands on you.”

“Ralph is okay. Completely fine! There is no need to worry about Ralph. Ralph is worried about you. So much thirium…”

“This should have never happened. You were there for me when I didn’t even have a stitch of clothing on my chassis, but I abandoned you to run Calypso on your own. You could have gotten hurt badly today. I’m so sorry, Ralph.”

Gavin plucked the bullet out and began working to stem the flow of blue blood. His hands shook with empathetic rage, and Nines noticed.

“I honestly think falling back on your core programming is the right thing to do. It’s the same thing as humans playing to their strengths. It doesn’t mean we’re still trapped by our software instructions. It doesn’t mean we’re not deviant. It just means that we’re choosing to do something we’re indisputably good at.”

Nines’ grip on his thirium beer was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. The synth skin was stretched to breaking point, exposing the plastic chassis beneath. Gavin swallowed uncomfortably. He found himself wishing that he was an android too and could telepathically ask Connor to shut the phck up.

As usual, he was the only one who noticed Nines’ tension. Hank and Fowler and all their other insensitive colleagues were nodding sagely at the bullshit the RK800 was spewing.

“I mean, sure, there’s plenty of androids who choose alternative career paths, but I think that’s just an unnecessary hill to climb. If you’re up for the challenge, go for it by all means, but why? It’s never made sense to me. I can’t imagine being anything other than a detective.”

Gavin’s eyes flitted between both ends of Hank’s backyard as if he were watching a tennis match. Connor continued to babble and Nines grip on his drink became increasingly vice-like.

Then there was a splintering sound.

A spray of blue beer.

A scatter of broken glass.

Time seemed to slow down as Nines pushed himself off the fence he was leaning on and made his way across the yard.

And then Gavin had a fleeting vision of Connor being tackled to the ground and having his jaw ripped off. He’d heard plenty about preconstructions but he’d never expected to have one himself as a human. Or was that just what they called a premonition?

Gavin moved quickly.

He actually ran.

He paid no heed to the irritated murmurs and cries of alarm.

He pushed a hapless colleague out of the way and inserted himself directly in Nines’ path…

deftly avoided the attempt to shove him aside…

wrapped his arms around Nines’ neck…

and kissed him.

Part 3/3

#tw: physical violence #reed900 #dbh rk900 #rk900 #gavin900 #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh #dbh connor #dbh markus #dbh ralph #dbh fanfic #dbh writing #my writing

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